Seven Steps
by oriflammelite
Summary: Moments in the daily lives of Lee and Kara. LeeKara, slight mentions of LeeDee KaraAnders


Title: Seven Steps - 1/1

Author: Mark Darcy http/oriflammelite. Yes, please.

Pairing: Lee/Kara (mentions of Lee/Dualla and Kara/others)

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2,205

Summary: On being alone ...

0o0o0

Seven ladder steps is all it takes to make it into a Viper. Those are seven steps Lee takes easily, without looking, keeping his eyes focused instead on the Viper set up beside his on the launch track.

By the time he reaches the top step, it's inevitable that Kara is at the top of her ladder, looking over at him.

Sometimes there are smiles exchanged, but not today.

It's hard to smile when you're sure you're about to die.

At least, Lee thinks, sliding into the seat and giving Starbuck a final thumbs up, at least I won't die alone.

0o0o0

There was once a time Lee thought he was brave enough to tell Kara he loved her. That she was perfect and beautiful and they could fly through supernovas together and live.

In some ways he's glad he never got the chance to.

There's still part of him that wishes he hadn't been too drunk and she hadn't been lying in Zak's arms at the time, her face pressed against his brother's throat, the sound of light laughter shaking both their chests.

It was probably a bad idea either way.

0o0o0

Lee gains weight when he's stressed. He also fraks a lot women, usually the wrong ones, but if they're persistent enough he'll stick with one because when he's stressed he really can't be bothered with much.

Kara's just the opposite. She runs when aggravated, throws endless punches at the exercise bag and high-kicks her way through the mornings and nights. Her muscles take on unnaturally sharp edges and her face becomes pointed and pale.

During these times -- and there have been many -- Kara doesn't mock him for his bloat. He doesn't compliment her on her fitness.

They know each other too well for that.

0o0o0

He's ruthless when she doesn't live up to her potential. When she drinks too much and too stupidly and he's holding her up over the toilet while she's sick.

She talks a lot during this process, which pisses him off even more. "I don't know what I'm doing, Lee. I don't know anything anymore. I wish we, you and me, could ..."

He's always left wondering what she means as she can never finish this particular sentence. It's the story of their lives it seems -- these unfinished sentences -- so he tells her to shut the hells up and finish being sick, because they have work to do.

There's no room for frak-ups during a war like this one.

There's no time for emotions that should have died when the Colonies did.

0o0o0

Kara likes to make fun of the fact that Lee once wanted to be a bartender, owning his own place on Caprica. She finds it endlessly amusing that a Viper pilot of his caliber would ever dream of being anything else, as the concept is as foreign to her as breathing underwater.

She also thinks that bartending is, in general, stupid.

"Flip it!" she yells when he's pouring out ambrosia in the officer's lounge for the other pilots. "Flip the frakkin' bottle."

He ignores her even when she proclaims, "You suck! You're fired!"

It's only when she's not looking or passed out from drinking too much that he flips and juggles the bottles through the air with ease, never losing a single drop.

0o0o0

When they are flying, Lee has complete faith in her decisions. Except for the ones that are blatantly stupid, but any doubt he has is always softened by the knowledge he can pluck her out of any jam she gets herself into.

Usually.

Her voice crackles over the 'com. "I think I can get close enough to take out its FTL."

He's having trouble believing what he's hearing on his headset. That's a heavy Cylon transport she's talking about, surrounded by ten Raiders. Ten buzzing, furious, fast Raiders that are hurling death through the sky. "What?"

"Seriously. I can take out its FTL. We can probably haul it in."

"Stop being an idiot. Concentrate on the Raiders."

"And let that thing complete its mission? No way. Frak the Raiders."

"Those Raiders will frak you if you don't come to your senses, Starbuck. Now forget the transport and follow your orders!"

Those are the worst instructions he could ever give her because only microns pass before she's dodging her way through the wall of Cylon fighters, aiming her guns like a bee sting at the transport's hyperdrive.

She's fast and she's good and it almost works, except that's she's hit a fuel tank instead of the FTL and the transport explodes in a glorious orange sphere of flame, huge shards flying through space, one of them knocking Kara's right thruster straight off.

"Ooops," she says, her Viper floundering in wide circles. "Got a little problem here."

It's more than a little problem, as the Raiders smell blood. They zero in on her like wolves and Lee forgets about following orders, wading into the fray without hesitation, nudging Kara's Viper hard enough to get a good spin-out going, far away from the battle.

She'll be dizzy, but she'll live and Lee doesn't mind facing the Raider squadron alone if only because it'll piss her off to no end, especially if he dies. Which is a frakked up way to think of things, he'll admit later, once he's taken out what he can and outrun the rest.

Outrun them because Lee's not dumb nor particularly suicidal and not being able to witness Kara's grudging gratitude at some point after his return would make dying just that much lousier.

Besides, there are better ways to piss her off.

0o0o0

In the mess, they always share their food because both of them are picky and there's always one thing served that Lee likes and Kara hates and vice versa.

The silent trade-off between their trays is quick and efficient and Lee isn't too surprised when Kara looks up at him and says through a mouthful of food, "We're pretty much married, aren't we?"

He tosses a seeded roll onto her tray. "Yeah," he admits. "We are."

0o0o0

Except that they're not married in the way that makes marriage worth it, something that's punctuated when Kara brings another lover back to her rack, this one an obvious replacement for the Pyramid player back on Caprica she can't seem to get out of her system.

She's a noisy and rough lover, not his type at all, Lee thinks, pretending not to listen to every heavy breath ... every moan. She's schooled herself not to call out names anymore, at least that's what Lee thinks she's done as he hasn't heard her scream one in a while now.

Not since the day she called out Lee's name and they both knew he'd heard.

They never spoke about it, but her self-control says things in silence that mere words never could.

0o0o0

Lee's head is throbbing with a virus that's just about to become full blown. Kara, never the motherly type, is nice enough, offering him her sleeve to wipe his nose on and he's disgusted enough to merely sniff the cold back.

He works through the illness, until it becomes apparent that he's running a fever high enough to make his surroundings surreal, edges blurring everywhere, people looking far away and too close at once, the hanger noises garbled and loud.

Their faces scare him, even in sick bay where Cottle injects him full of precious fluids and medications that Lee tries to swat away because there have to be people who are sicker than he is somewhere in the fleet.

Cottle swats back and Lee is too tired to protest anymore. "I'm not thirsty," he repeats, through an aching and parched throat as Kara brings the straw to his lips, again. "I'm not thirsty."

She ignores him, making him drink and taking his hand when he's done. Plays with his fingers in a way that would irritate him if he were well, but they are so cool and gentle and i there /i , he starts to hope she never lets go.

Which she doesn't, not even when she collapses into a seat next to his stretcher, her eyes getting heavy-lidded as the night wears on but they never close completely. Not for a micron.

She's still awake when his fever breaks, their hands still entwined. Her voice is almost as raspy as his. "Do you want some water?"

"Yeah," he replies, which means he must be better. Thank the gods.

"Then get it yourself," she retorts, smiling broadly. She takes her hand away, but the feeling of it still remains. "I'm not your slave."

"No, you're not," he replies, noticing the dark circles under her eyes, and for a long while, he's unable to think of anything else.

0o0o0

Kara's a surprisingly good dancer. She's smooth and elegant, hardly the toe-stomper Lee figured she'd be and they have no trouble stepping out in time together when certain diplomatic occasions call for it.

His only experience in dancing was in grade school where it was required for young gentlemen to learn the proper social arts and he has to search his memory for steps in order to keep up with her fluid movements.

She sighs and tries not to lead him too much. He touches her waist as lightly as he can, resisting the urge to run his fingers down the curves that are covered by a material that's far too inviting to the touch.

He thinks about his footwork instead, counting off notes in his head, trying to synchronize himself to the music and he's almost got it when she stops cold, scowling at him.

"You need to relax. Just dance for gods' sake."

"I can't just dance," he replies, unable to hold her annoyed gaze. His fingers start to twitch, catching some of the fabric of her dress between them and he has to pull his hand away before he does something stupid. "I have to do it my way, all right?"

"Your way, huh? Fine, let's do this your way then," she huffs and falls back into their stiff waltz.

Lee returns to counting steps and this dance happens to have seven, which is the exact same number as those on a Viper's ladder.

0o0o0

When Kara heads off to Caprica to rescue her lover, Lee spends the evening taking Dualla out to dinner. She's both radiant and attentive and the only bad bit of luck he's having is with the ordering as there's nothing on the menu he likes.

Eventually, he just points at something, because something is better than nothing and when the dish arrives he picks at it with feigned gusto, smiling at his date across the table with all the energy he can muster.

"You really don't like that, do you?" Dualla asks, tilting her head at him.

He puts down the fork. "Not really."

"Then why did you order it?"

He shrugs. "It was the best of what was available."

She blinks at him and Lee quickly leans over the table to kiss her before she can ask anything else.

0o0o0

Several months into his command of the i Pegasus /i and six months after Baltar's election as President, Lee notices his pants don't quite button as they should. He shrugs it off and orders his assistant to have them taken out by someone who can sew, or at least thread a needle the proper way.

That someone ends up being Dualla, who works nimbly at them until they somewhat fit. She ends up taking out his jacket as well, sitting on their shared rack, busily licking the thread into a wet point, her eyes narrowly focused on her work.

The hallways are nearly empty and in the CIC there's hardly anyone but Dualla who focuses on the DRADIS with the same intent look she uses when sewing Lee's clothes. Three months ago she was promoted almost as an afterthought, but she takes her job seriously enough, which is good enough for him.

Everything is ... good enough.

Sometimes he visits the hanger, on pretense of inspection. The few pilots that are left line up and salute him, looking bored. He salutes back and compliments them on gracefully handling their lack of work, which is rather a lie, as the incidents of fighting and drinking are more commonplace than they ever were at the height of the Cylon attacks.

There's a broken Viper sitting in the far corner, with a boarding ladder leaning up against it, no doubt to facilitate the stripping of its parts. Lee looks around furtively before climbing the ladder with some difficulty, struggling to reach the top.

He makes it and breathing hard, he looks out over the hanger, staring at the abandoned Viper set up next to this one, waiting on the shoot track for a launch that will probably never take place.

No one is there to look back at him.

And he wonders what it will feel like to die alone.

0o0o0

the end

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